The BatCENSORED Begining
by Spymaster E
Summary: My new parody. It's not as random as the old one, but is quite a bit more sarcastic, and who doesn't like sarcasm? By the way, Violet is a valley girl, Mr. Poe is a hippie, and Count Olaf has a bizarre insult for Klaus. Now updated with Chapter Eleven!
1. Chapter One: A Woeful Book

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: I am replacing my original parody with this new one, because I really am not proud of it anymore. ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

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Chapter One: A Woeful Book

If you are interested in stories with happy endings, then why the hell did you pick up a book entitled, "A Series of Unfortunate Events"? Doesn't the _name_ of the book give you a clue that it is not a happy story? Well, it is not, because not only is there no happy ending, there is not happy beginning, no happy middle, no happy beginiddle, no happy middling, and very few happy things in the beginddling. This is because the Baudelaire siblings, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny, had some of the shittiest luck in the world. They are only fourteen, twelve, and one respectively, yet their lives already sucked. Now, doesn't that sound sad? Because if it doesn't, you're a sadist. Unless you like miserable stories, in which case you're a masochist.

Oh, I almost forgot. I like to use big words. Why? Because I can. I'll explain what some of the complicated—and the not-so-complicated—words mean later on.

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes. Ahem.

Like I said, this book is very unhappy and unpleasant. It is ride with anger, terror, sadness, horror, fear, misfortune, despair, misery, hopelessness, anguish, anxiety, cruelty, vice, and villainy. If you're interested, then read on………sadist. If not, then go read some other book, like _The Giving Tree_.

Good, now all that shit is out of the way.

Crap, I wasn't supposed to say that out loud!

Um…moving on.

The three children were at Briny Beach. They lived with their parents in a big, huge, freaking mansion in the middle of a big, huge, freaking city named Luvrentown, and were rich. They often went to the beach, on cloudy days such as today, because it would be _cliché _if they went to the beach on sunny days.

What? This doesn't sound unfortunate? Well, no shit, Sherlock! Just keep your shirts on, I'm getting to the unfortunate part. I just have to introduce the characters first.

Violet, the oldest Baudelaire, was a total valley girl. She loved spending her money—she had much more than any fourteen year old girl should, but hey, that's America for you—on superfluous—a word which here means, "unnecessary"—crap, like designer clothes. Why wouldn't she? She's a rich teenager. It's not like she would waste her life trying to _invent_ stuff. Hell no. Inventing is for nerds.

Klaus, the middle child, was twelve and was the only boy. He liked to read. Relax. He's not a _complete _nerd, he watches TV and occasionally plays racket ball. When he reads, he usually researches things. When he's not researching, he's reading a book that has naked girls in it.

Sunny was the youngest. She was a baby. No, not an ordinary baby, a super badass baby with razor sharp teeth that could cut the _bark _off of trees, or climb out of an elevator shaft. What? That sounds improbable? Well, this is a _book_, dumbasses. It doesn't have to be probable, does it? As the author, I could even make Sunny be a _cook _if I wanted to. Which I might just do in about eight or nine more books…

But for now, she just has badass teeth. Oh, and she speaks baby talk, which I will translate.

Right now, she said "Gack!", which meant, "Look at that mysterious figure emerging from the fog!"

The kids turned to see a mysterious figure emerging from the fog.

"Like, oh my God!" Violet complained. "I, like, cannot believe this! First, I, like, get dragged out onto the beach on, like, a cloudy day by, like, an ubergeek, and now a mysterious, like, figure is coming, like, right at me! It's probably, like, some pervert! I, like, hope he isn't, like, staring at my boobs!"

"What boobs?" Klaus asked. "Your chest is as flat as a sheet of paper!"

-WHACK-

"Ow!"

"Rock!" Sunny suggested. She meant something like, "Let's throw a rock at the mysterious figure emerging from the fog!"

"Oh my God, that is, like, such an uber awesome idea!" Violet declared. "Why didn't I, like, think of that?"

She threw a rock at the mysterious figure emerging from the fog. It hit the mysterious figure emerging from the fog square in the head.

"Whoa!" shouted the mysterious figure emerging from the fog. "Uncool, man! Give peace a chance, bros!"

The children realized that the mysterious figure emerging from the fog was none other than the banker Mr. Poe.

Hi, Mr. Poe!" Klaus greeted.

"Hey, man!" Mr. Poe replied.

"Like, oh my God, I'm, like so sorry!" Violet apologized. "I, like, totally didn't realize it was you!"

"It's okay, sister!" Mr. Poe said. "It'll heal in time, bro. All it needs is a little peace and love!"

"I guess you're not a gangsta like in Random Little Writer's parody, huh?" Klaus asked.

"No way, bro. I'm totally a hippie. Gangstas are just so…negative, man."

So, there you have it, Mr. Poe was a hippie.

"Whassup?" Sunny asked, which sounded gangsta, but was really baby for, "What brings you here, Mr. Poe?"

"Oh, I'm sorry to bust your bubble, bros, but I've got some uncool news." Mr. Poe bowed his head. "Your parents just recently bit the dust."

"Huh?" Violet asked.

"Your parents kicked the bucket."

"Like, what does that mean?"

"Your parents licked the dope."

"Oh my God, stop being so, like, cryptic and shit!" Violet whined. "What did our parents do?"

"I'm sorry to bring such negativity, bro," Mr. Poe said, "but your parents died."

"What?" Klaus asked.

"What?" Violet asked.

"What?" Sunny asked, which meant, "What?"

"Jeeze, bros, I don't know how to explain the negativity any clearer!" Mr. Poe breathed. "They died in a fire that also destroyed your mansion. Hey, that's what happens when you live materialistically."

"Are you _blaming _our parents for their deaths?" Klaus asked incredulously.

"Like, what is your uber deal with materials?" Violet asked stupidly.

"Whoa, now I don't wish to say I'm glad your parents died," Mr. Poe stammered. "That would be unpeaceful, man, and that's uncool. I was just saying that living materialistically leads to pollution and other bad things, bros! Now that you're orphans, and will be living under my roof until I kind find you a guardian, I'll teach you all about giving peace and chance, and loving the environment!"

"Boring!" Sunny said, which meant, "What sap would want to do that? I've heard Glen Beck, Mr. Poe, and he says that people like you push the insidious liberal agenda."

Oh, I forgot to mention. Sunny watched a lot of FOX News.

"Like, oh my God!" Violet whined. "Can I at least get some of my designer clothes out of the mansion!?"

"I'm afraid not, sis," Mr. Poe replied. "You see, the fire was very uncool and violent, it destroyed _everything _in that house. Only the stone frame remains, man."

"Did all our money burn up?" Klaus asked.

"Like, oh my God, that would, like, totally suck if it did!" Violet said, imagining all her money igniting in the blaze.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Mr. Poe was suddenly furious. "Your parents fucking _die_, and all you fucking care about is fucking _money_!? That is so not cool, bros! I think you need to be taught a lesson in living like normal people! That's why I'm not letting your borrow money from the bank, where your fortune sits. Yes, it's fine, goddamnit! But you can't use a cent of it until Violet is eighteen. That's when you inherit it by law. Maybe by then you won't be so _selfish_, and you'll realize that there is more to life than _money_!"

For a hippie who hated riches and surplus money, it's strange that Mr. Poe decided to become a banker. Even stranger was that he kept his job at Mulctuary Money Management despite constantly dissing the place. That can't have been very good for business.

"Jeeze, take a chill pill!" Violet said, with even greater attitude than usual.

Mr. Poe coughed into his handkerchief. He coughed a lot, because his car was full of pot smoke all the time. He _is_ a hippie, after all.

"No, man, I usually just get high whenever I get angry." Mr. Poe seemed to be regaining his cool.

"I was, like, being sarcastic," Violet said in a snippy tone.

"Well, we should probably get going," Mr. Poe said, ignoring Violet completely. "I'd hate to get caught in the rain. It's such a mood killer, you know?"

"Dude, you just walked up to us and told us our parents _died_," Klaus said, even more incredulously than before.

"Not only that, but I can't use my money until I'm, like, eighteen!?" Violet was distraught. "That means I can't keep up to date on buying, like, the latest Abercrombie and Fitch styles! That, like, totally bites ass!"

"Crymeariver!" Sunny said, which mean, "Oh, you'll get over it!"

And so, the Baudelaires, now orphans, were no longer rich, and no longer lived in a big, huge, freaking mansion. Now, that sounds unfortunate.

Trust me, you ain't seen nothing yet.

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**Sorry that this chapter is so short, but first chapters often are. I like this parody much better than my first one so far. I'm waiting to see what you guys think. **


	2. Chapter Two: Staying at the Poes

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: I am replacing my original parody with this new one, because I really am not proud of it anymore. ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

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Chapter Two: Hippies are Terrible Housekeeprs

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny felt terrible after their parents died. Well, Klaus and Sunny did. Violet was more torn up about not being able to use the fortune to buy Abercrombie and Fitch. I can't imagine why. I mean, I don't give a shit where you get your clothes, or what brand they are, if they keep you warm, and cover your naughty parts, they're good enough for me. Then again, I'm the one who choose to write Violet like this in my parody, so I shouldn't complain.

Anyway, the car ride to Mr. Poe's house didn't help the Baudelaires. It was full of smoke, and it was hard not to get high off of it. Mr. Poe didn't make any attempt not to inhale.

"Wow…" Mr. Poe said dumbly. "I never realized I had these…five long things…growing out of my hands…"

"Those are fingers," Klaus explained, trying hard not to inhale.

"Oh…man…that is AWESOME!" Mr. Poe was amusing himself by flicking his fingers, instead of watching the road.

But, miraculously, the car never swerved or crashed.

So, the idiot hippie banker and the Baudelaire orphans made it safely to the said idiot hippie banker's house.

The three kids leapt out of the car, eager to get away from the pot smoke. You'd think there would be more in the house, but, thankfully, Mrs. Poe had strict no-marijuana rules in the house.

Mr. Poe was busy staring at the ceiling of his car, wondering where all the pretty lights had come from. He fell out of the car when he leaned too far against the walls and slipped out the open door.

The kids laughed as Mr. Poe landed on his ass and obliviously shouted, "Man, those pretty lights hurt!"

Since Mr. Poe was fat, his gargantuan—a word which here means, "unbelievably freaking huge"—ass shook the whole neighborhood when he fell on it. Mrs. Poe came outside, wondering what the commotion was about. She glared at Mr. Poe.

"Arthur, you _promised _me you'd stop getting high while you drove," she admonished. "One of these days, you're going to be killed, and don't come crying to me when that happens."

Klaus would have explained to her that it would have been impossible for Mr. Poe to come crying to her if he was dead, but Mr. Poe let out a large, random belch that shook the whole neighborhood once again.

Needless to say, the neighbors were not at all pleased.

"Will you keep it down out there!?" one man yelled. "I'm trying to watch _Jerry Springer_!"

"I'm trying to have sex with my boyfriend!" a woman yelled.

"I'm trying to have an affair!" Esme Squalor yelled.

"I'm trying to cook the turkey!" another man yelled.

"I'm busy trying to masturbate!" a third man yelled.

"Thanks for sharing, you perv!" Esme said to the third man.

"SHUT UP OUT THERE!"

"No, you shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

"I asked first!"

"No, I did!"

"Will you all just SHUT UP!"

"Angry Neighbors Tell Each Other to Shut Up," said Geraldine Julienne, "Wait until readers of _The Daily Punctilio _hear that!"

"Just come inside you three," Mrs. Poe said to the Baudelaires. "I've cooked a personal favorite of mine, Deep Fried Pickles with Log Cabin Syrup!"

The Baudelaires then realized that they were going to have a miserable time with the Poes.

After the dinner, the Baudelaires were sent upstairs, away from Mrs. Poe trying to get Mr. Poe out of his high by spraying him with ice cold water. Violet was disgusted at the poorness of the house.

"I can't believe it!" she whined. "There are, like, no private pedicure booths like at our mansion!"

"That's because this isn't a mansion," Klaus explained dully.

"And, this house has, like, no elevator!"

"That's because there's only two floors in this house instead of four."

"I didn't even see, like, a dumbwaiter to carry me my breakfast in bed!" Violet was off on a tangent now. "If they, like, don't have that, they shouldn't even call it a place to live!"

Klaus gave up trying to explain things to his sister. She obviously wasn't listening, and whenever she was, she called him an ubergeek.

Turns out they had to share their room with Mr. Poe's asshole sons, Edgar and Albert. The result of having a hippy father who didn't believe in showering was evident on these two boys. Oh, and they were mean to the Baudelaires, despite constant urgings from Mr. Poe to "be cool to the dudes who just lost their parents."

"But the baby bites!" Albert whined. "Violet won't shut up about Abercrombie and Fitch, and Klaus just…reads. He just sits in a corner, and reads, it's creepy."

"Whoa, let us not judge our brothers and sisters based on their quirks," Mr. Poe was apparently trying to scold his son, but it was hard for a hippie to sound stern or angry unless you mentioned a love of money. "This world will go nowhere with such hatred, man. Bring the love, bros!"

"Suicide," Sunny said to her siblings, which mean, "between you and me, I can't wait to get out of this shithole!"

"Like, me neither!" Violet agreed.

"On a lighter note, dudes," Mr. Poe turned his attention back towards the Baudelaires. "I think I found you a guardian for you to live with until Violet is eighteen. Unfortunately, with globalization and outsourcing scattering families across the world, I can't send you to live with the closest relative on the family tree. The closest geographically will have to do. But, just be cool with it, it could be way worse, man."

"Where are we going?" Klaus asked. "Who's the guy we're going to live with? How is he related to us?"

"Damn, a triple question," Mr. Poe scratched his head. "This are usually tricky. I usually get high to help, but my wife said no pot in the house…"

Klaus would have explained that those three questions were no more complex together than they were separately, but he thought better of it. All that pot had put holes into Mr. Poe's brain, and this made him incomprehensibly stupid.

"First question," Mr. Poe thought for a bit. "You're going to live on the other side of town, past that fancy diner at 141 Dark Avenue. Second question…the guy you will live with is a count and a theatre troupe member by the name of Olaf. Third question…he's either a fourth cousin three times removed, or a third cousin four times removed. Or maybe he's a fifty-seventh cousin ninety-eight times removed…"

"Our parents never mentioned a Count Olaf," Klaus said. "Why didn't they invite him over if he lives here in Luvrentown?"

"Well, he's probably just busy," Mr. Poe explained. "Busy…like a businessman…of Corporate America…grr…"

"Is there a problem?"

"What? Oh, no, man! Just got a little angry at the _vicious pragmatic materialistic cooperate executives _and their _money_! Whoa…but now I'm calm…think of nice things…the Beatles…Lynard Skynyrd…Al Gore…"

As you can probably guess, it was going to take a while before Mr. Poe came up with a list of his heroes to calm him down. I will skip a few hours, past Mr. Poe's list, Sunny getting caught in the chimney by some random accident, and Violet thinking about the latest edition of _Seventeen _magazine.

They started packing up that night, preparing to go to Count Olaf's in the morning. Violet wouldn't pack her own clothes, complaining that a butler usually did that for her and…wait, why am I talking about boring shit like _packing_? Let's just skip to the next morning when Mr. Poe woke them up by playing Led Zeppelin in a very off-key fashion.

The children got dressed, headed downstairs, and into the car with Mr. Poe. They hoped he didn't get high again like the last time.

They were in luck, but unfortunately, Mr. Poe wanted to listen to "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

After what seemed like a million years, the car finally pulled up in front of a nice-looking, white marble house with a garden in front of it.

A woman, named Justice Strauss, was tending to her garden.

"Oh, now, a judge," Mr. Poe groaned. "We've got to deal with the _establishment _now! Unless she's a cool activist judge like Sotomayer! That would be sweet, man!"

"Hello, there," Justice Strauss called out. "Are you the three children Count Olaf is adopting? I must say, I feel sorry for you. That guy gives me the creeps!"

Violet was enthusiastic to find a female to talk to. "Like, oh my God, my name is, like, Violet Baudelaire, and these are my siblings!" She pointed to Klaus. "This is, like, Klaus, he's an ubergeek—"

"Hey!"

"This is, like, Sunny," Violet pointed to Sunny. "Be careful, she, like, bites really hard if you're mean to her!"

"Whoa," Mr. Poe interrupted. "Biting is a sign of _anger _and _negativity_ and is not cool, bro!"

"You must be Mr. Poe, the banker who handles their fortune for the time being," Justice Strauss greeted.

"What's up, man?" Mr. Poe shook Strauss' hand, and then hugged her, much to her shock. "I don't suppose you could direct us to the dude adopting these children?"

"You mean Count Olaf?" Justice Strauss asked. "He lives next door, in the decrepit, old, and creepy looking house with the dead yard and the tower where I hear screams every night."

Mr. Poe and the kids turned and saw a decrepit, old, and creepy looking house with a dead yard in front and a tower. Since it was daytime, there was no screaming.

Not that that made the house any less intimidating.

"Be careful," Justice Strauss called as they made their way towards Count Olaf's house.

At Count Olaf's house itself, the sun stopped shining, and the sky turned a gloomy gray. It was always overcast at Count Olaf's house.

What am I forgetting? Oh, yes. Count Olaf's house had eyes carved into the windowsills and the front door. Yes, you read that right, he carved _eyes _into those things.

"Like, oh my God, we're like being sent to live with, like, some creepy dude with an eye fetish!?" Violet was almost as distraught as she was when she learned she couldn't buy Abercrombie and Fitch anymore. "My life, can't get, like, any worse!"

As if to disprove her words, the door to the house opened and a tall, skinny, scraggly looking man appeared. He had a tattoo of an eye on his left ankle, which was exposed because he didn't wear any socks. He had a unibrow, a scraggly, unshaven face, and he smelled like a slaughterhouse because he never showered or wore deodorant.

"Oh my God, it's Charles Manson!" Mr. Poe screamed. "Run for lives, bros!"

"Relax," Charles Mansion said in a deep voice. "I am only Count Olaf. You have no reason to fear me. He he he."

"Oh, whew, sorry man," Mr. Poe apologized. "You see I was once murdered by Charles Manson, so I'm a little afraid of him or people who look like him."

Count Olaf looked at him quizzically.

"He's an idiot," Klaus explained.

Count Olaf nodded in realization. Then he remembered why he was there.

"You must be Klaus," he said to Klaus. He turned to Violet. "You must be Violet, and I assume that shaved orangutan over there is Sunny?"

"She's, like, not an orangutan," Violet snapped. "She's, like, a _baby_, duh!"

"Flare," Sunny said, which meant, "I have a feeling I'm going to hate this place even worse than hippie banker's rat hole of a house!"

Indeed, the inside of Olaf's house was pure chaos. Clothes, apple cores, and lists were strewn about the floor, and the whole place stank worse than a sewer filled with dead skunks sprayed with rotting fish urine on a hot summer day.

Wow, that was a nice analogy, don't you think?

"No," Olaf said.

Shut up. No one asked your opinion.

All of the characters stared at me.

What? Yes, I interfere with the events of the story from time to time. It's called self-insertion, and it's very popular in parodies. If you don't like it, piss on you.

Count Olaf turned back to Mr. Poe. "I will contact you in order to borrow some of the children's money."

"Oh, no man," Mr. Poe said. "That money is off-limits until Violet is either eighteen, or learns to stop being a selfish bitch and realize that money isn't everything!"

"Like, oh my God, I'm just me!" Violet whined. "If I can't be me, than what's the point of, like, even being at all!?"

Mr. Poe glared at her. "Just shut the fuck up and behave yourself, okay?"

"Fine," Violet grumbled.

"Klaus and Sunny, you'll keep an eye on her?"

"Like we always do," Klaus answered.

"Far out, I knew I could count on you, bro!" Mr. Poe held his hand up for a high-five. Klaus rolled his eyes.

"Right," Mr. Poe said, realizing with embarrassment that no one was going to high-five him. He turned to Olaf, "Well, be sure to join my protest against oil drilling in Alaska next week. Feel free to bring the children, if you like. All right, peace out, bros!"

With that last sentence, Mr. Poe flashed the peace sign and danced back to the car, singing "Money Can't Buy Me Love".

Count Olaf turned to the Baudelaires. "It was a lucky coincidence, you showing up just now," he said, clearly amused. "I just finished trashing my place up and needed someone to clean it up while I talk shit about them. I usually do it with neighborhood kids on random occasions, but now that I have you, I look forward to making it part of the daily routine."

"Lame!" Sunny said.

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**I love ending this chapter with Sunny saying "Lame!" like Cartman from South Park! Well, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, read and review. **


	3. Chapter Three: Olaf Sucks

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: I am replacing my original parody with this new one, because I really am not proud of it anymore. ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

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Chapter Three: Life with Olaf

The Baudelaires had thought that living with Mr. Poe, the hippie banker, was the worst experience of their lives. They were wrong. Count Olaf was exponentially worse, particularly because he was always getting drunk and partying with his friends. It was no wonder that his house was a shithole, because he was never around to clean it.

However, with the arrival of the orphans, he set them to work on cleaning up his house, and giving them neither money nor respect.

And get this, this was only Count Olaf's _first impression_. He was actually a whole lot worse once you really got to know him.

Before I get on with this story, I will describe their sucky situation in explicit details. Count Olaf's house was big, but about three of the four bedrooms belonged to him. He slept in one bedroom during the weekends, another during the weekdays, and the third one was where his self-congratulatory praise was stored in file cabinets. Yes, he gave his positive files his own _bedroom_. He just pissed on his bad files and set them on fire in the backyard.

Anyway, the fourth bedroom was the smallest bedroom, and it normally served as a room for where the neighborhood kids he used to hire to do his chores for him would be chained and beaten by one of Olaf's associates if they had misbehaved. This was why there were chains in the room, and it was also why the "bed" looked like a board where one would be strapped down. It did previously serve this function, as you can gather for yourself if you're not a complete moron, and Count Olaf had decided to toss an old, flea-ridden mattress on top of it and call it a bed.

The windows in the bedroom were cracked and grimy. There were no curtains. Count Olaf had put a cardboard box on one side of the room for the Baudelaires to put their clothes in. A large and obscenely ugly painting of an eye hung over the "bed". The entire bedroom was stained in grime and the remains of the dried blood of kids who suffered under Olaf's corporal punishment.

If you don't think this really sucks for the Baudelaires, you're either almost as sadistic as Hitler was, or you're just appallingly apathetic.

Sleeping in this room every night was not fun for the Baudelaire orphans. Being awake sucked for them too. They had all those chores that they had to do, which Olaf wrote down on one of his lists.

For the first day that they lived with him, it read as follows:

"Dear orphans,

I want you to pick all the clothes in the house up and toss them in the hampers. I also want you to scrub the spittoon downstairs until it is squeaky-clean. For your specific chores, I want Violet to wash the chamber pots in the wreck room, I want Klaus to file all of my self-congratulatory papers in alphabetical and chronological order, and I want the hideous baby to cut some of the leather strips with her teeth. I need the leather straps to fashion into a flexible but firm belt to beat you children with whenever you misbehave. I want all of this done by the time I get home tonight, which will either be between 6 PM and Midnight, depending on how drunk I am.

-Your beloved Count Olaf"

On the second day, it read this:

"Dear orphans,

Since you did not help me get up the stairs in my drunken stupor last night, as soon as that leather belt is finished, I'm tanning your hides. Now for your chores. Violet, I want you to set up a pole in the observation tower outside; I'm inviting at last six strippers to pole dance at a party next week. Klaus, I want you to buy me some more whiskey, I ran out of it after my 20 bottle binge last night. Baby with the freakish teeth, I need you to continue fashioning the leather straps for my belt.

-Your beloved Count Olaf"

Klaus had a very hard time doing his assigned chore, as no one would sell a twelve-year-old whiskey.

After a week or so, the letters started becoming increasingly ridiculous in nature. Here is an example:

"Dear orphans,

My belt is finished. But I can't remember what it was going to be used for. Maybe I'll make a bungee cord out of it? Yeah, that's a great idea! I'm so intelligent. Of course, I'll need a platform for the tower if I want a bungee party for my associates and I. Go out and buy some wood and build the platform. Oh, and don't forget to buy me 500 bottles of whiskey.

-Your beloved Count Olaf"

"Oh my God, this, like, totally sucks!" Violet complained. "I am, like, so going to break a nail building that platform! When is he, like, going to ask me to buy Abercrombie and Fitch!?"

"Ugh!" Sunny said, which meant, "Will you forget about Abercrombie and Fitch for one freaking second! GOD!"

Klaus said nothing, but quickly got to work on buying the wood from the local Fred Meyer, about 25 blocks away, and managed to convince Violet to help him and Sunny build the platform.

Unfortunately, when Olaf got home, he forgot all about the bungee cord idea and decided instead to invite his associates over for dinner the next day. He allowed the platform and the cord to stay up there. Why? Because I need a plot device so that Violet could find a way up there without inventing a grappling hook (because inventing things was nerdy) to save Sunny only to get captured.

The next day, Olaf left them a note stating that they needed to buy some groceries and some dessert. He also told them to buy sixty-nine kegs of beer. He forgot to mention he wanted roast beef, of course, so the children had no idea what to buy.

"Oh my God," Violet was in valley girl mode once again. "I have, like, no idea how to cook anything, except, like, toast!"

"Burnt toast that is," Klaus cracked.

-WHACK-

"Argh!"

Violet once tried to make toast for her parents on Mother's Day. She used an oven instead of a toaster, which is why they came out burnt. Klaus loved rubbing this in her face whenever she offered to cook, and even after their parents died he continued to do it.

"If our parents were here, they'd kill Olaf," Sunny said.

Klaus and Violet stared at Sunny, amazed that she had spoken in normal human language.

Wait a minute. That wasn't supposed to happen. Let me revise that.

"Strauss!" Sunny said, which mean, "If our parents were here, they'd kill Olaf!"

While her siblings agreed with her, they also thought of something. They could ask Justice Strauss next door to kill Olaf for them!

The three children went next door to ask Justice Strauss for that.

"While I agree with you that he is abusive and creepy," Strauss said, "I simply cannot allow you to kill him. Murder is a serious crime, and jail is no better than his house I'm afraid."

The children were outraged, and slaughtered Justice Strauss. Realizing their crime, they quickly chopped the body up, hid it in the walls of her house, and drank her blood so as not to leave stains on the floor.

Wait. Oh, crap. Sorry, I didn't mean to write that. I was thinking of a crazy person who would do violent things when he got angry. Let me fix that.

The children were not outraged, but were very disappointed. Fortunately, they weren't bummed out enough to contemplate going all serial killer on Justice Strauss. Or where they? Seriously, though, they weren't.

"Well," Klaus said, defeated. "I guess all we can do for now is try to make Olaf happy by doing what he tells us."

"That, like, totally sucks!" Violet complained.

"Fightthapowah!" Sunny said, which mean, "We should just nuke Olaf's house! That's what Glen Beck would do!"

"No, he only says he would do that," Klaus corrected. "If he did, not even his legions of crazy fans would keep him from being thrown in jail, because using nukes for any reason is terrorism."

Sunny growled. "Horseshit!" she said, which meant, "You're stupid!"

"No, you're stupid!"

"You're both stupid!" Violet yelled. "Neither of you, like, have any taste in hot, new fashion!"

Sunny and Klaus stared at her for a moment. Then they agreed to stop fighting and to start thinking of a plan, because if they fought, they were doomed, unless Violet magically grew a brain.

"We can go shopping for the food!" Justice Strauss suggested. "I'll help you!"

"That works!" Klaus said.

"Sure," Sunny said, which meant…oh, I think you can figure it out for yourself.

No?

It meant, "sure," you morons.

They headed over to the store. They passed by the mall along the way, and had to taser Violet to keep her from charging towards it.

When they got to the mall, Justice Strauss split with the group in order to get the sixty-nine kegs of beer (she was the only one legally old enough to buy alcohol). The children looked for some items that they thought would please Count Olaf. Klaus suggested an Italian recipe called Pasta Puttanesca. Puttanesca was a sauce made from capers, tomatoes, parsley, garlic, olives, and anchovies. Since Violet thought that was all too complicated, she was sent to buy the spaghetti. Klaus tracked down the items for the Puttanesca Sauce. Sunny was sent to pick up a desert, so as to get on Olaf's good side by looking like they were thoughtful.

Klaus, Sunny, and Justice Strauss got their items relatively easily (although Strauss had trouble explaining the need for sixty-nine kegs of beer). Violet, however, was distracted by a display of Abercrombie and Fitch clothes, and thus had to be drugged in order to get her away. So Sunny ended up buying the pasta.

If you're wondering how a _baby _can buy things, let me remind you that this is a book. Not only that, it's a _parody_. It doesn't have to be realistic.

When the children returned home, they started to work on cooking it for Olaf and his comrades. Well, Klaus and Sunny did. Violet spent most of the time complaining about being drugged and having a chipped nail.

* * *

**Next up, the dinner gets cooked, but Olaf reveals that he wanted roast beef. While the Baudelaires manage to please him, or will they be chopped up by an enraged Olaf and fed to his associates—damn it, I mean, will Olaf just treat them like shit like he normally does? Read on to find out.**


	4. Chapter Four: But I wanted roast BEEF!

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

* * *

Chapter Four: "I wanted roast BEEF!"

The process of cooking the Puttanesca Sauce was not as easy as it should have been. Why? Two things. Number One, this is a parody. Number Two, Violet made bonehead mistakes that are hilarious, as you will soon find out.

When Klaus was chopping the anchovies, Violet though the knife was something she could pedicure her nails with. She ended up losing the tops of her fingers and I had to show her mercy and magically regrow them for her.

When Sunny was slicing the capers, Violet hated the smell and sprayed perfume all over the place, forcing Sunny to start over with some new capers I gave her.

When Klaus was mixing the tomato sauce, Violet decided to use it as nail polish. This made the room messy, and I had to magically clean it up.

After several screw ups by Violet, who showed no sign of learning from her mistakes, I decided to put her in stasis until dinner was ready.

Justice Strauss was next door, attacking the weeds in her garden with a massive pair of scissors. She periodically yelled at Geraldine Julienne, who was watching her and trying to make a newspaper article about it.

Mr. Poe got arrested for marijuana possession, and I had to bail him out of jail.

But eventually, the Puttanesca Pasta was ready.

Not a moment too soon, as Olaf and his drunken comrades burst through the door right as dinner was being served on the plates. Violet quickly got into a position where it looked like she had actually served her purpose, a phrase which here means, "helped her siblings cook Puttanesca Pasta and not complain about her nails."

Count Olaf strode into the kitchen.

"We're ready to serve your pasta," Klaus said. "We've got pudding for dessert."

"That's nice, but where's the roast beef?" Olaf asked.

"Huh?" Sunny asked.

"Huh?" Klaus asked.

"Like, huh?" Violet asked.

"Roast beef," Olaf repeated. "You know, _beef _that has been _roasted_!"

"We know what it is," Klaus retorted.

"Then why didn't you make it?" Olaf asked.

"You, like, didn't tell us that you wanted, like, roast beef!" Violet responded.

"Dumbass," Sunny said.

Olaf was very angry, but he soon smiled wickedly. "Fine then, if you didn't make any roast beef, then I guess I'll have to make it myself!"

He then cut the Baudelaires into pieces and roasted them. He served to his friends, and there was—wait, oh God, I'm sorry, I can't seem to get the image of crazy people who use children as a meat substitute. Please excuse this paragraph and the above one.

Olaf was very angry, but that anger soon turned into a bizarre display of _crying_. Yes, you read that right, he was _crying_. I italicized the "crying" for a reason. It's to show incredulity. Moving on.

"Why didn't y-you make r-r-roast b-b-beef!?" Olaf sobbed. "I know your parents d-died, b-but can't you think about other p-people for a s-s-second!?"

"I told you, you didn't tell us you wanted it in the letter," Klaus tried to explain. "Maybe you shouldn't get so drunk when you write them?"

"W-w-what!?" Olaf sobbed. "Y-you s-sound so m-much l-l-liked my m-mother. S-she always t-told m-me I was too drunk to d-do anything r-r-right!"

Sunny rolled her eyes. Olaf was being so immature.

"I mean, I wanted roast beeeeeeeeeef, but you're too heartless to care!" Olaf had crossed the line from babyish to creepy. "Just like my mother who never loved me!"

Oh, your mother loved you just fine.

That seemed to snap Olaf out of it.

"Yeah, she did, unlike _you _ungrateful brats!" he snarled.

"Oh my God, what does this, like, have to do with us?" Violet asked.

"It isn't about us," Klaus explained. "It's about him."

"Damn right it is!" Olaf yelled. "I demand that you serve roast beef _this instant_!"

"We don't have any because you didn't tell us you wanted roast beef!" Klaus yelled back.

"Puttanesca!" Sunny added.

"Oh, Olaf, oh Olaf, where are you, old man? The saucer is as big as a frying pan!" Olaf's drunken friends were wondering where he was. They sang a song, trying to create rhythm, and failed epically.

Count Olaf called them in, and his theatre troupe appeared one by one. There was a man with hooks for hands named Fernald. There was a bald man with a long nose named Mr. Botox.

Mr. Botox glared at me.

What? Hey, that's the name I'm assigning you in this parody. Live with it.

Mr. Botox insulted my mother under his breath, and I turned him into a toad for five seconds as punishment. When it was over, he agreed to behave.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes.

There were two women with their faces painted a ghastly white color. Their names were Flo and Rush. There was an enormously large hermaphrodite named Albert. There was a man with warts all over his faces named Collin. There was also quite a few other people who serve only the purpose of filling in at Olaf's dinner party and are never seen again.

"We've found you, we've found you've, you silly old man," they sang. "The dope is as strong as a raspberry tram!"

Olaf and the children exchanged bamboozled glances for a moment, then Olaf spoke.

"I am just telling these children to make roast beef," he said. "Instead of some stupid pasta!"

"Well you children must be very unintelligent," Fernald said. "Either that, or disobedient. Might I suggest the torture chamber you used for those stupid neighborhood kids you used to hire, Olaf?"

"It's no good," Count Olaf said. "I've turned it into a bedroom."

"I told you that was a stupid idea," Mr. Botox said.

"Well, enough talk," Collin said. "Let's get drunk and have dinner!"

"Good idea!" Olaf cheered, forgetting about his anger at not being served roast beef. "Did anyone remember to invite the strippers for the after party in the tower?"

After Olaf and his associates were out of earshot, the Baudelaires let lose a tirade of swearing.

"Bastard dick asshole!" Klaus swore. "Who does he think he is!?"

"Damn taint ho!" Violet swore. "He is, like, totally uber pooper right now!"

"Sonofabitch!" Sunny swore, which meant, "We should report him to the authorities!"

"We can't," Klaus said dejectedly. "Being displeased and crying like a baby over not getting the meal he wanted doesn't qualify as child abuse."

"Stupid," Sunny said.

"Dinner, dinner, dinner," Count Olaf and his theatre troupe chanted like a bunch of eight-year-olds. "Dinner, dinner, dinner!"

"Well, we better serve them dinner," Klaus said.

"This, like, totally sucks," Violet complained.

"Word," Sunny agreed.

The three Baudelaires glumly served the dinner around the table. Mr. Botox and Fernald got into an argument about Pokémon cards. Flo and Rush were arguing over which actor who played James Bond was the hottest. Count Olaf and Collin were discussing the qualities of alcohol that gave them such a buzz when they were drunk. Collin was thinking up ways to enhance the buzzing effect, which was quite an interesting concept to Olaf. His eyes gleamed as he imagined a get rich quick scheme around the aforementioned concept.

When they were done serving, they went back into the kitchen and ate their food.

Before long, the chanting began again, and the children cleaned up the dinner dishes and served the chocolate pudding for dessert.

By now, the troupe was extremely drunk. Mr. Botox had put a lamp shade on his head and was doing a break dance on the table. Fernald was dancing as if he were in a disco. Collin and Count Olaf were bursting into random bits of laughing, interrupted only by random bits of groaning. Flo and Rush had passed out, and were dreaming dreams about Orlando Bloom that were too disturbing for me to write about.

You may have wondered where the other people have gone. Like I've said before, the only purpose they served was that one scene.

After the pudding was eaten, Count Olaf and his troupe staggered up from their seats and around the room.

"All right, kids," Olaf ordered. "Go ahead and clean up this room. My associates and I are going up to the tower, and the stripers will be here soon. You are not to intrude on us during this time, and you are to go straight to your beds when the stripers arrive."

"Beds!?" Klaus asked incredulously. "You only gave us _one_ bed!"

"And it, like, totally sucks!" Violet added, and for once Klaus agreed with her. "It's not even, like, really a bed, it's just a board with, like, a mattress tossed on top of it!"

"Oooooooooh!" the members of Count Olaf's troupe chorused as if they were in a private elementary school and the orphans had just mouthed off a nun.

Count Olaf glared at the kids. "You've got money, so you can buy your own shit whenever you feel like it!"

"I can't, like, use it until I'm, like, eighteen!" Violet protested.

"You know that!" Klaus admonished.

"Dumbass!" Sunny said.

"Oooooooooh!" the troupe said again, exciting at whatever was going to happen next.

"I'll have you know," Count Olaf said in a deadly quiet voice, "I was raised in a Catholic School where the nuns were very severe, and you're behavior would have resulted in a ruler being slapped onto your hands. Since I don't have ruler, I'll have to settle for this!"

With that last sentence, Olaf reached down and struck the children across the face one by one.

"OUCH!" Klaus yelled, rubbing his face

"Like, Ouch!" Violet yelled, also rubbing her face. "That, like, really hurt!"

"Abuse!" Sunny said in agreement.

The theatre troupe laughed and guffawed.

"Oh please," Mr. Botox said. "My mother used to spank me with an oar when I was disrespectful!"

"That's nothing," Fernald boasted. "My mother tied me to a tree in my backyard and only fed me once every two days if I misbehaved."

"Are you kidding?" Collin asked. "My mother locked me in the basement for a week when I was bad!"

"Our parents made us wear bags over our heads!" Flo and Rush chimed in unison.

"Blargh!" roared Albert the hermaphrodite.

The other members of the troupe stared at it for a second, before remembering that he couldn't talk.

"Consider yourselves lucky," Olaf said to the children, "that none of those things have happened to you…yet."

He and his friends went upstairs laughing.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny were now forced to contemplate the intense suckishness of their predicament.

"This, like, could not suck any worse!" Violet complained.

At that point, a radio announcement blared throughout the town.

"This just in, the city's sixth most important financial advisor has pressured Luvrentown lawmakers into making it illegal to give Abercrombie and Fitch products to anyone except herself. That is all, thank you!"

Violet gasped.

Klaus and Sunny braced themselves.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The entire city of Luvrentown stopped what they were doing and looked fearfully around for the source of the disturbing sound they just heard.

* * *

**Here's Chapter Four. I'm planning on having a confrontation between Mr. Poe and Olaf about the values of peace and love for the next chapter. How will it end? Read on to find out!**


	5. Chapter Five: Hippies are easy to dupe

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language

* * *

**

Chapter Five: Hippie vs. Drunkard

Unless you are God, you have probably cried at one point in your life. If you're a guy, that's ok. All the bullies who make fun of you are probably chickenshit pricks. Girls, it's ok too, most because you're _allowed _to cry, especially if you have a boyfriend.

Violet was crying, mostly because Olaf had ruined her perfect face by giving it a red mark when he slapped her. She was also bummed that some financial adviser was hording all the Abercrombie and Fitch merchandise for his/herself. Klaus and Sunny had to keep her from shouting "I'LL, LIKE, BURN THIS WHOLE FUCKING WORLD DOWN!" at the top of her lungs. Which was hard.

But eventually, they did it. When they accomplished the herculean task, they got to work on contemplating how badly their situation sucked.

"We can't stay here," Klaus said. "Count Olaf is a freak! His troupe is full of deranged people!"

"We can't, like, go out on the streets!" Violet protested. "I'll, like, get all of my clothes dirty!"

Klaus rolled his eyes. "If we stay here, we'll only get treated like a malformed pug that rolled in a puddle of moose dung, rotting fish, and skunk fumes."

Violet stared at him blankly.

"We'll be treated badly," Klaus explained wearily.

"Oh," Violet said in realization.

"Fiji!" Sunny said, which meant, "We need to do _something_!"

"Maybe we could live with Justice Strauss next door?" Klaus suggested.

"But she, like, doesn't have any taste in fashion whatsoever!" Violet complained.

"Sunny, will you please bit her?" Klaus asked in annoyance.

"Sure!" Sunny said enthusiastically and bit Violet on the leg.

"OW!" Violet screamed. "That is, like, so not cool!"

Violet's scream gave Klaus and Sunny an idea. They could go explain their situation to Mr. Poe. Hopefully, he'd help them.

"Poe?" Sunny asked.

"Yeah, it's worth a try," Klaus responded.

After Violet stopped her hissy fit of kicking Sunny for "ruining her beautiful ankles", they left Count Olaf's house and towards the bank where Mr. Poe worked.

Why didn't Count Olaf stop them you ask? Remember, he and his troupe had a party with strippers and lots of booze in the tower last night. They're all still out cold.

When they walked into the main city of Luvrentown, they realized they had no idea where Mr. Poe worked. They knew it was Mulctuary Money Management, so they looked for a building that had a similar name. They walked through a few meat districts before coming across a slum like area.

Klaus gulped. His parents had warned him about this slum. It was called Little Detroit, and it definitely earned that name. The schools here were among the worst in the country, the district was essentially run by gangs, and the buildings were old, dirty, and dilapidated. You couldn't go more than a hundred feet into the slum without running into a cokehead.

"The '80s were very unkind to this place," Klaus mused. "We have to go through here to get to the bank."

"Itgoindown!" Sunny said, flashing her teeth. She meant something like, "if any gangster or mugger tries to mess with me, I'll show them a REAL way to cut somebody!"

Klaus and Violet stared at their sister in surprise.

"I think we need to monitor what she watches on TV at night," Klaus said to Violet.

"Like, totally," Violet agreed.

"Nope!" Sunny asked, which meant, "I learned it from the gangsta rap I listen to for FREE on Napster. Good luck blocking that!"

"I'll buy some parental controls after we talk to Mr. Poe," Klaus said.

"Cool, but can we, like, head for the bank now?" Violet asked.

"Yeah, just stay alert," Klaus warned.

The three children began their walk through Little Detroit. The slum was a very unattractive place and they were anxious to get through it.

"Get your crack here!" a coke dealer called out through the ghetto. "Get your crack right here folks! Only $15 bucks per ounce!"

"Looks like the last few years of inflation hit the vice trade as well," Klaus did not sound surprised. "I am not surprised."

They quickened their pace as many gangster-looking people gave them the evil eye from behind the grimy windows of the tenement houses and general stores.

As they were about to leave Little Detroit, they were stopped by an old, scraggly looking guy.

"Hey there," the old man called out in a wheezy, elderly sounding voice. "You kids hold it right there! You are trespassing on our turf, and we're going to cut you up for it!"

"Oh yeah?" Klaus asked. "You and what army?"

"Me and this army!" the old man said, calling out to some other old men. "Before the crack epidemic, this here slum belonged to me and my partners here. We were involved in gambling, prostitutes, and heroin since 1893. But then in the 1980s a whole younger generation of whipper-snappers brought their coke here and usurped us. We've been forced into this small section of Little Detroit near the banking district and we've been very territorial. All trespassers on our turf have died, and you children will be no exception!"

"That's stupid!" was what Klaus had to say about all that.

"Now don't you talk back to me like that!" the old man scolded. "As I've told you, I've been a gangster since 1893, when I was 25. I've seen a lot of things and murdered a lot of people, so you don't want to mess with me!"

Klaus walked up to him, and flicked the old man on the nose. He keeled over and fell unconscious.

The other old men started firing their weapons. But since they started their criminal lives in 1893, they had very outdated and inaccurate guns. Also, because they were 140 years old, they had poor vision and couldn't aim worth crap.

The children easily walked out of Little Detroit without a single bullet coming anywhere near them. As they walked away, the old men shouted taunts such as, "Yeah, you'd better run!" and "You're lucky Johnny Torrio wasn't here, or you'd be dead before you even blinked!"

At long last the children reached the Mulctuary Money Management office building. They stepped inside, asking where Mr. Poe was. He was in the back room.

They walked into the back room and saw Mr. Poe, dressed in hippie clothes, sitting behind a desk next to enormous file cabinets. There was a great amount of contrast in that image.

"What's up, little dudes!" he called. "Have you come to help me organize a protest to the caging of animals in the zoo?"

"No," Klaus said. "We've come to talk to you about Count Olaf."

"Awesome," Mr. Poe responded. "What's he like?"

"He's a Grade A prick!" Klaus said, but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"Wait a sec," Mr. Poe said, picking up the phone. "Hey, what's up, man? You calling about that glitch that's causing you not to receive a paycheck? Well, don't sweat it; I'll have it fixed in no time. Once I do, don't go crazy over your new money. There are more important things in life, like peace and love. What? Well, fuck you too, man. Goodbye!" he slammed the phone down. "Some people are so obscenely rude," he sighed to the Baudelaires. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Count Olaf is, like, a Grade A prick!" Violet repeated what Klaus had said. "He won't buy me Abercrombie and Fitch!"

Klaus, Sunny, and Mr. Poe rolled their eyes.

"Well, Abercrombie and Fitch is not the meaning of life," Mr. Poe explained. "Besides, only the city's sixth most important financial advisor is allowed to buy their merchandise now."

"I know, it's, like, so unfair!"

"Please excuse her," Klaus said, glaring at Violet. "Count Olaf is an evil despot. He's like the reincarnation of Joseph Stalin, he makes us do all these stupid chores—"

"Well, that's not to bad, bro!" Mr. Poe said cheerfully. "While doing chores sucks, there are worse things to be asked to do, like work for corporate America, or taking a vow of celibacy."

"I agree with you on the celibacy thing," Klaus admitted. "But I wasn't finished. Olaf makes us do stupid chores, he has mean friends, and he struck us across the faces when we didn't make him roast beef!"

The phone rang again.

"What's up, bro?" Mr. Poe said into the telephone. "Oh, not you again! Look, I'm sorry about the paycheck glitch, man, but verbally abusing me isn't going to help. Goodbye."

He hung up. "What did you say Olaf did?"

"He struck us across the face," Klaus repeated.

"What!?" Mr. Poe said angrily. "Are you sure? Because that is a total violation of the virtues of peace and love, and is _uncool_, man!"

"Well, he, like, did," Violet said. "He, like, also made us sleep in, like, a bedroom that used to be, like, a torture chamber!"

"Torture chamber!?" Mr. Poe yelled. "Well, that is the last straw! I'm coming over there and giving him a piece of my mind!"

Klaus, Violet, and Sunny looked at each other in surprise. Their plan actually worked.

Mr. Poe and the children headed back to Count Olaf's house (easily dodging the bullets spewed by the elderly gangsters) and knocked on his door.

Count Olaf staggered to answer the door. He opened it all the way.

"Yes?" he asked.

"These little dudes here say that you hit them," Mr. Poe admonished. "And, bro, that is just not cool!"

"They were being disobedient," Olaf protested. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You didn't have to go all establishment on them!" Mr. Poe scolded. "This isn't Kent State, man!"

"Kent State, what!?" Olaf snapped. "Jesus it's not like I shot them or anything!"

"But you were violent!" Mr. Poe snapped back. "I'm afraid I'm going have to take away custody of these children from you!"

The three Baudelaires could hardly believe their luck. They were actually going to leave Count Olaf!

"Ha!" Count Olaf yelled. "If you even try, I'll tell all your associates that you've been sleeping with the city's sixth most important financial advisor!"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAT!?" Mr. Poe was furious. "I would _never _sleep with that horrible, materialistic, greedy..._person_!"

"I've got a Photoshop account," Olaf replied calmly. "I can use it to provide photos to prove you slept with her!"

"You bastard!" Mr. Poe said, defeated. "I know I shouldn't, but…if you come with me on this protest of corporate sponsored oil drillings, will you _promise _to forget this conversation ever happened?"

"Sure," Count Olaf agreed.

"Also, promise not be so uncool to these children?"

"Sure."

"All right, man," Mr. Poe was back to his hippie sounding self. "See how we were able to do this through diplomacy and not violence? Peace is good, man!"

"Sure."

The Baudelaires groaned. They went a long for nothing. Nothing. Bubkiss. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Jackshit.

The Baudelaires glared at me. They didn't appreciate my rubbing it in. But since I was the author, they couldn't stop me. Ha!

"So are we cool?" asked Olaf.

"Totally, bro!" Mr. Poe shook his hand, and then headed back to the bank.

The three children were left alone with Count Olaf.

"You children need to learn some street rules," Olaf scolded. "The number one rule is no tattling. Since you tried to rat me out, you will be triple-scrubbing the bathroom tiles as well as unclogging the sink."

"Lame!" Sunny yelled.

* * *

**Here's chapter five, and next up is Chapter Six, where Count Olaf suddenly changes his demeanor and behaves civilly towards the children…until he reveals he's only doing this to get Violet to marry him in a play, which he wrote himself.**

**R & R!**


	6. Chapter Six: The Origins of Violaf

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

* * *

Chapter Six: The Birth of the Violet/Olaf ship

The triple-scrubbing of the bathroom tiles and the cleaning of the filthy sinks had one positive side-effect for the Baudelaires. It made them so exhausted that they forgot that their bedroom was a former torture chamber. So, they had their first good night sleep since before their parents licked the dope.

What, are you confused about that phrase? Well, look in Chapter One when Mr. Poe uses that phrase, and then you'll see what I mean.

The next morning, they prepared for the next chapter of their miserable saga of living with Count Olaf. Going downstairs into the kitchen, they wondered what absurd note their despotic guardian had left them. To their surprise, their despotic guardian himself was waiting.

"Good morning, children," he greeted in a surprisingly friendly tone. "I've made oatmeal for you, and it is not poisoned in any way whatsoever."

"Ew, I, like, totally hate oatmeal!" Violet complained.

Olaf frowned. He quickly replaced the three oatmeal bowls with three watermelons.

"That's better," Violet smiled.

Olaf forced a smile back onto his face. He did not like that the fact that I made him get three watermelons just so he could give the children the illusion that he could be civilized.

"I was thinking about what that hippy banker said the other day," Olaf lied in an unconvincing manner.

He glared at me.

"Enough with the editorializing!" he snapped. "Just because I'm lying doesn't mean you have to make me bad at it!"

I'm the author; I can do whatever I want. Now stop whining or I am going to make you dress up in a clown suit and dance around at the Vatican.

Olaf shuddered. "Okay," he agreed.

Good, I'm glad that's settled.

Olaf grumbled and then turned back to the Baudelaires. "As I was saying, I was thinking about what the hippie banker said the other day. He says I should be more peaceful with you."

"It would, like, be a big improvement!" Violet continued in her valley girl attitude. "I, like, want to go the mall everyday from 8 AM to 6 PM and spend, like, at least $1000 on the top fashions!"

Olaf forced himself not to go off on a tangent. "I'm sorry, I was thinking that just being more 'peaceful' with you would satisfy Mr. Poe's demands."

"I'm fine with that." Klaus said.

"Soami!" Sunny shrieked, which meant, "Me to!"

"But I, like, want to go to the mall!" Violet pouted.

"Well, as you can see, I cannot provide for your extravagant demands!" Olaf shot back. "Unless I marry you, but I can't, because you're fourteen!"

Violet scrunched up her face. "Ew! Like, why would I want to marry _you_!?

"Because I am totally sexy!" Olaf yelled, striking an action-romance movie hero pose.

"Can we get back to the point?" Klaus asked.

"Certainly," said Olaf. "I have examined my behavior since you were first delivered into my home and I am afraid I may have acted a bit standoffish."

The term "standoffish" means "reluctant to associate with others." It would describe someone who sat by himself in the cafeteria. It would _not _describe someone who used to lock children up in a torture chamber, forced three siblings to sleep in one room with only a single mattress, forced children to do ridiculous chores, struck children across the face, and partied with hookers and booze in a tower almost every night. There are many terms to describe someone like that. A few examples are as follows: slob, jerk, asshole, dick, Satanist, sadist, child abuser, violent, brutish, misogynistic, uncivilized, jackass, reactionary, crazy, profligate, evil, inhuman, horrible, terrible, oppressive, despotic, Bill O'Reily, unethical, Nero, villainous, Hitler, vile, disgusting, cantankerous, son-of-a-bitch, bastard, Stalin, Rush Limbaugh, gross, horrendous, demented, hellish, Osama bin Laden, and King Charles. There are many others, of course, but that would take up far to many pages. The point here is that Olaf used a completely incorrect adjective to describe himself because he's a moron.

My insult agitated Olaf, but he kept his cool, keeping my threats in mind. He continued his cheesy "apology."

"So, as a way to make you feel more like you're in a family," Olaf smiled wickedly, "I'd like to invite you to join a play!"

Translation: I'd like to dupe you into marrying me so I can get your fortune.

Violet began to bounce up and down like a giddy school girl. "Like, oh my God, I can be _famous!?_ This is, like, the most awesome thing that ever, like, happened to me since my parents, like, died! I'm in!"

"I'm glad you accepted," Olaf's smile widened. "Because you'll be playing a very important part."

"I will!?" Violet was elated. "Like, what will it be!?"

"You will play a beautiful young woman in a play by Al Funcoot," Olaf explained. "We will give the performance on this Friday night at the Luvrentown Theatre. The play is called _The Marvelous Marriage_. In the finale, the beautiful young woman will marry a very handsome and intelligent man—"

"Oh my God, awesome!" Violet cheered.

"—played by me," Count Olaf finished.

Violet stared at Olaf in horror.

"What the fuck!?" she snapped. "I don't want to marry _you_!"

"Relax," Olaf was still smiling. "It's a play, remember? You're not _actually _marrying me. Just pretend I'm that Edward guy from Twilight and you're marrying _him_."

Violet's face lit up once again. "In that case, sure!"

"What about us?" Klaus asked.

"Yeah!" Sunny agreed.

"You two will play the midgets who attend the wedding," Olaf stated matter-of-factly.

He actually does say that in the real book; I'm not trying to be offensive here.

The characters stated at me quizzically.

What? I'm just stating an author's note. Get back to your roles.

They nodded, and then resumed their appointed roles.

"That sucks!" Klaus groaned, upset at Olaf's chosen role.

"Lame!" Sunny agreed.

"It won't be too hard," Olaf continued to Violet, ignoring the other two Baudelaires completely. "Just dress up in a popular wedding dress and go through with the marriage procedures and you'll be more famous than Britney Spears!"

Translation: You'll be my wife by law and then I'll take command of your fortune and murder you and your siblings.

"Cool!" Violet was ecstatic. "That is, like, totally awesome!"

"Justice Strauss will play the judge for realism," Olaf continued.

Translation: So my dastardly plot to marry you will become a legally binding contract.

"Are you all ok with that?" Olaf asked, one second before concluding with, "fantastic. I'll let you rehearse your lines while I go get drunk!"

With that, Count Olaf left the room and headed back up to the forbidden tower.

"This is, like, so awesome!" Violet repeated. "I'm going to be famous!"

"You're not at all worried that this might be some dastardly plot?" Klaus asked.

Violet frowned. "You're, like, a total downer! Why can't you, like, let me have my moment!?"

"Idiot!" Sunny replied.

"Yeah, seriously," Klaus agreed. "He's treating us like shit one moment and now suddenly he wants to be nice to us and offer you the chance to marry him in the play? He has to be up to something."

Violet growled. "All right, _fine_! It is, like, a _little _suspicious, I guess, but what can we, like, do about it?"

"We can try to tell Mr. Poe," Klaus suggested.

"Hippie," Sunny responded, which meant, "I think he's off on that oil drilling protest at the moment."

"You're right, he's, like, useless," Violet agreed. "How about we, like, kill Olaf and bury the body down in the basement where no one ever goes?"

"Tempting," Sunny seemed to like the idea.

Klaus, however, had to spoil the situation with his logic. "His associates will know he's gone, and besides we'd have no guardian if we did that. Oh, and we'll probably get caught and go to jail."

"Well, that would, like, totally suck!" Violet was crestfallen.

I like that word, crestfallen. Crestfallen, crestfallen, crestfallen…

The three Baudelaires glared at me.

Sorry about that, got a little carried away.

The kids returned to their conversation.

"We could tell Justice Strauss about this," Klaus suggested.

"She's, like, going to be in the play, too," Violet said. "She won't, like, want to give up a chance to, like, be famous!"

Klaus and Sunny groaned.

"Book," Sunny suggested.

"How will that, like, help us?" Violet said scornfully. "I don't need Klaus, like, going all uber-nerd on me!"

Sunny looked pleadingly at Klaus, wanting permission to bite Violet.

"Maybe later," Klaus said, but Sunny bit Violet anyway.

"OW!"

"Or not…" Klaus tried not to laugh. "Let's just go read up on this like Sunny suggested."

"Yes," Sunny agreed.

"Well, okay, but I've, like, got the tranquilizer in case Klaus gets, like, enveloped in the books again."

So, the Baudelaires headed over to the house next door. In case you don't remember, that was were Justice Strauss lived. I don't know how she could not have noticed all the hookers entering her neighbor's house at night even though three children lived there. Wouldn't she have called the police? Then again, this _is_ a parody.

The kids arrived at the judge's house just as a screeching sound was heard from the tower. Seconds later, a drunken Olaf was tossed through the windows, shattering the glass. He fell to the ground, Wile E. Coyote style, and landed painfully.

"Dumbass," Sunny cracked.

* * *

**Here's Chapter Six. In the next chapter, Klaus will search the books in order to discover Olaf's plot…but will get sidetracked by many different books in the process. Sunny will help Justice Strauss keep Geraldine Julienne at bay, and Violet will…stand around and complain as usual. **

**Read and review!  
**


	7. Chapter Seven: A Utopia of Books!

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

**

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**

Chapter Seven: An Excess of Books

Since before the invention of paper, there have been books. The ancient Egyptians carved words into stone. The also whipped their children with a cat-o-nine-tails if they misbehaved. How primitive is that!?

What?

Oh, you want me to get on with it? Fine then, I'll just finish up my explanation about books and then the story will pick up again.

Now where was I?

Oh, I remember now. There have been books for a very long time. There are many different kinds of books because there are many different kinds of people in the world. That makes sense, doesn't it? Doesn't it!?

Of course it does. Anyway, because there are so many different kinds of books, it would be useless for me to explain the reasons people read different books. Some people like parodies, some people like dramas, some people like books in which children are shoved into an empty elevator shaft. But nobody likes reading books about the law, not even lawmakers.

You see, law books are soul-crushingly boring. They are tedious impish tomes spawned by the Great Fiend of the Underworld. The sole reason they are written is to bore people into ideological oblivion. The only profession that benefits from such nothingness is the attorney. Lawyers, because of this, get paid lots of money as a bribe to force them to read the tedious impish tomes spawned by the Great Fiend of the Underworld.

Klaus and Sunny, however, needed to read them not in order to exchange character and ingenuity for money, but in order to stop Count Olaf's evil plan. Violet was just there to whine. Klaus and Sunny couldn't leave her alone with Count Olaf, so they were forced to drag her ass to Justice Strauss's house next door.

"Hi, what do you need?" Justice Strauss asked.

"We need to read a long, dull, and soul-crushingly tedious law book in order to stop Count Olaf's evil scheme," Klaus explained.

"Urgent!" Sunny agreed.

Justice Strauss smiled. "Don't worry; I've got plenty of those things. Feel free to look around. I'd help you stop his dastardly plot but I'm worried that he wouldn't let me be in the fabulous play he's producing this Saturday!"

"Thanks!" said Sunny.

"Good to hear it!" Klaus agreed.

"BORRRRRRRING!" Violet groaned.

Justice Strauss hit her on the head with a cartoon mallet. Violet fell over, and Strauss picked her up and carried her into the backyard.

"She's going to help me tend to my garden," Strauss whispered to a snickering Klaus and Sunny.

Justice Strauss dragged Violet outside to the garden. Sunny and Klaus were now free to look for books in the library.

Klaus was amazed at the massive quantities of books he saw around him. He often had to be bitten by Sunny in order to come back to reality.

Several of the books Klaus read contained many bizarre things. There was a woman who in the Edwardian Era left her fortune to her pet weasel instead of her sons, and the sons sued her. They tried to make the case that their mother was crazy, but the weasel died and the woman committed suicide. As far as anyone knew, the money was still locked in the abandoned mansion she used to live in. Another story involved a man who thought he was the incarnation of King James II and unsuccessfully tried to convince the Prime Minister of Britain to launch an invasion on America. But he couldn't find anything on what to do if an evil count was trying to marry your sister in order to get your fortune.

Sunny was searching in the law section. She found many long law books, but she couldn't find anything on how a marriage in a play could morph into an actual marriage.

Back at Olaf's house, Fernald and Mr. Botox got into an argument over Pokémon cards. Mr. Botox kicked Fernald in the shins, and he returned by punching Mr. Botox's long nose. How he did that with hooks for hands I'll never know. Let's just say he improvises well.

Out in Justice Strauss's garden, Violet finally came to. Strauss smiled at her and handed her some yard tools, and the next half-hour was filled with Violet's complaints about getting her clothes and nails dirty.

Klaus finally found a book called _Inheritance Law and Its Implications_. The book was 4,896 pages long. It was written by I.M.A Judge. Quite a name for someone who writes law books, don't you think?

"No," Klaus responded.

I smacked him across the face.

"OW!"

That's what you get, biyatch! Now read it.

Klaus muttered something under his breath. I gave him the evil eye. He shuddered and then started reading the book.

The book was terribly long and boring, but Klaus had a solemn vow to save his siblings from Olaf—plus, I was pointing an AK-57 at him.

"You there!" a voice called, and Klaus turned to see Fernald walking into the house. "Count Olaf sent me to get your and your siblings! Get back to the house immediately or I will be authorized to use these babies on you," he brandished his hooks.

"Look, I'm just—" Klaus stopped abruptly. "Why is there a sentence that reads, 'I will not call Pikachu gay,' across your forehead?"

Fernald glared. "Mr. Botox and I were—it's none of your damn business!"

"Sorry," Klaus held up his arms.

"What are you reading?" Fernald looked at the massive law book. "Why are you reading that?"

"I'm interested in long, law books," Klaus lied.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Fernald growled.

"Yes."

WHACK!

"OW!"

"Ok, smartass!" Fernald growled. "I don't think you or your siblings should be allowed to come into this library until after the play on Friday! You're trying to foil Count Olaf's plans and I won't stand for it! And for Christ's sakes will someone get that idiot with the AK-57 out of here!"

I pointed the AK-57 at him.

Fernald _meeped_.

Klaus snickered and Fernald kicked him in the shins.

"You're in no position to make fun of me, brat!" Fernald snarled. "You are all in Olaf's hands until he marries Violet. Once he has your fortune, he will probably tear you and your hideous baby here"—Sunny growled at this—"limb from limb! He might just let me have the honor of doing that! So you'd better start being nicer to me and everyone in the troupe if you want to be granted a merciful death!"

Klaus wondered why I couldn't just shoot him with the AK-57.

Well, if I did, the story wouldn't be able to go on. Duh!

Klaus glared at me.

"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, insect!" Fernald tried to turn Klaus's head to face him before remembering that he had no hands. "Damn it! I'll just go fetch your sister Violet out in the garden!"

He walked out to the garden kicking Sunny aside with a rude, "Out of my way, baby!" as he went by.

Sunny flashed her teeth at Fernald. "Slice!" she snarled.

"I agree," Klaus said glumly. "I guess I'll just have to smuggle this book back to the house under my shirt!"

"Whack!" Sunny shrieked, which meant, "how are you going to hide a 4,896 page book under your shirt!"

Don't worry, this is a parody.

"For once I agree with the author," Klaus said. He stuffed the massive book under his jacket. "Let's go!"

"Like, don't you dare, like, touch me with those hooks!" Violet complained, walking towards Klaus and Sunny with an extremely irritated Fernald. "I will, like, sue the hell out of you once I'm, like, old enough if you, like, tear my clothes!"

"Three days until Friday," Fernald murmured. "Three days until Friday…all right, inspection time!"

Klaus tensed.

Fernald looked Klaus up and down. A massive book-shaped limp was in his shirt.

"Ok, you're clear," Fernald said, and Klaus breathed a sigh of relief.

Sunny was next.

"You need to get those teeth dulled," Fernald sneered.

Sunny bit him.

"OUCH!" Fernald glared daggers at her. "I shall truly enjoy killing you when the time comes, you hairless shrunken orangutan! Let's go!"

Fernald lead the Baudelaires back to the house. Klaus thought about ways to keep himself entertained while he read the long, boring, book that night.

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**Here's chapter seven after a brief hiatus! Read and review!  
**


	8. Chapter Eight: Rise and Shine, Binky Boy

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: ASOUE belongs to Daniel Handler, and all the rights of his characters belong to him, yadda yadda yadda, that's all, good bye, the end.**

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

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Chapter Eight: A Night of Unspeakable Boredom

Klaus decided that he would spend that night reading the boring, long, heavy-ass book so as not to arouse suspicion from Count Olaf. The trick for him, of course, was getting Violet to go to sleep so that he could concentrate on reading, because it was very hard to concentrate on reading when someone was throwing a hissy fit over everything they could think of.

"I am, like, so not sleeping on the floor tonight, Klaus!" Violet had snapped, looking at the dirty floor in disgust. "I, like, do not care if you need a bed to concentrate on, like, reading that boring ass book, because I have, like, too much dignity for sleeping on the floor!"

"I find that quite hard to believe," Klaus said in a very elitist sounding tone.

Violet smacked him.

"OW! Oh, again with the smacking of my face! One of these days you'll smack it clean of my head!"

Violet smiled evilly.

"Oh, shit…" Klaus breathed. "Forget that I—"

Klaus was interrupted by Violet smacking him again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and—

"Oh my God, you are so mean!" Klaus shouted at me for writing so many smacking scenes involving his face.

I smacked him, and his face flew off of his head, leaving a smooth sheet of skin where his face used to be.

Klaus made some muffled noises, while his face smacked into the wall on the far side of the room and slid down to the floor.

"Put me back onto my body!" Klaus's face demanded.

Fine, but you must promise not to insult me again.

"Fine, I promise!"

You may insult Violet as much as you want however.

"Like, what!" Violet was furious. "Now, listen here! I don't, like, have any intentions of allowing my awesomeness to be, like, degraded by this nerd who, like, calls himself my brother!"

Klaus's face had been placed back onto his head. Relived to be in control of his body once more, Klaus picked up his massive law book and smacked Violet on the head with it. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Finally," Klaus said triumphantly. "I CAN READ IN PEACE!"

He returned to his bed and opened the book. He then realized that he didn't have a flashlight to help him read in the dark. I used my author powers to make one magically appear on the ceiling and bonk him on the head, knocking him out.

Oops…I didn't mean to do that. I filled a bucket with ice cold water and threw it on his face, causing him to wake up gasping. He glared at me with utter rage.

Sorry about that.

He grumbled, "I'm sure," and turned the flashlight on in order to start reading.

The book was long, boring, and tedious. It was also totally lame. It had 4689 pages and not a single one of them was entertaining. Of course, he wasn't reading it for entertainment. He was reading it in order to stop Count Olaf's evil plan.

It was very hard for him to keep himself awake, but I had a bucket of ice cold water just in case he fell asleep. So, that wasn't too much for him to worry about. He had more trouble continuing after his eyelids became droopy. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again. He found himself—

Klaus glared at me.

Heh, sorry, I couldn't resist.

Grumbling profane words, he returned to his book.

Around one in the morning, Count Olaf, who despite being dumber than a dead horse suspected Klaus of trying to foil his plot, had sent one of his henchmen, Mr. Botox, into the room to steal Sunny.

Mr. Botox was supposed to make no noise at all. Of course, he was stupid, and simply barged into the room, slamming the door against the wall with such force that the door handle punched a hole in the wall before bouncing off the interior rafters and pulling the door with it. The door slammed shut again, smacking Mr. Botox in the face and knocking him to the floor.

Klaus took no notice.

Mr. Botox barged through again, this time kicking the door off its hinges. He walked up to where Sunny was sleeping, which was inside a bundle of sheets next to Klaus. However, Violet was still unconscious on the floor from when Klaus had smacked her with the book. This caused Mr. Botox to trip over her, sending him flying over the bed, crashing through the window, and falling down into the street below.

Klaus took a brief glance at the now broken window before he returned to his book.

Groaning, Mr. Botox staggered to his feet and was immediately hit by a car and forced to do a back flip before landing on the street in a painful-looking split. He groaned with pain, and limped back into the house.

He came back into the room and this time walked around Violet and approached Sunny in the bed. He forcefully snatched her out of the bed sheets and turned around to leave.

He forgot about Violet, and tripped over her, falling flat on his face. Amazingly, this did not wake Sunny up nor did it attract Klaus's attention.

Grumbling, Mr. Botox stood up and walked out of the room.

Klaus was still reading, and it was not until morning when he found out what he needed to know. He pulled out the page from the book, and headed downstairs to wait at the breakfast table for Count Olaf.

Olaf soon came down from the tower. He was still having a hangover from the night before, so he tripped halfway down the stairs, and stumbled and rolled the rest of the way down.

Klaus snickered.

"Shut up, orphan!" Olaf snapped. "What do you want!"

Klaus made a pose like a super hero. "I have foiled your plan, evil villain!"

Olaf stared at him incredulously. "You need to get laid."

Klaus glared at him. "Shut up, I get laid all the time! As I was saying, I found out how you are planning to steal our fortune!"

"O RLY?"

"Yep, and I know that since you are using Justice Strauss as the judge, the 'marriage' with Violet will be legally binding and then you will have access to our fortune!"

Olaf just smirked. "What makes you think you can stop me?"

Klaus paled for a bit. _Shit in a toaster_, he though, _I didn't plan for him to ask that question! C'mon, think of a reason, think of a reason…_

Klaus thought for a bit, and then a light bulb switched on in his head. "I'll stop you because I'm the good guy, and we always beat the bad guys!"

Olaf snickered. "Good luck with that, Binky Boy!"

Now it was Klaus's turn to look incredulous. "'Binky Boy?'"

"Yes, that is my insult for you…Binky Boy!"

"That…is the gayest insult I have ever heard in my life!"

Olaf growled, "Hey, **[EFF!] **you, that insult was great!"

"Yeah, a great _failure_!" Klaus smirked.

-WHACK-

"OW!" Klaus grabbed his face. "WHY AM I ALWAYS BEING WHACKED!"

"Because you **[EFF!]**ing asked for it, that's why!" Olaf sneered. "Now go upstairs and tell your sisters about how you found out my plans! I'm sure you'll find that there's more to defeating me than finding out what I plan to do, Binky Boy!"

"I still think that's a lame insult!"

"Shut up, Binky Boy!"

Klaus went upstairs to the bedroom and woke up the unconscious Violet by borrowing my bucket of ice water.

She was not happy about being woken up from her dreams about Edward from twilight.

"Oh my God, Klaus!" she complained as usual. "You, like, stupid asshole! You, like, totally woke me up from, like, the best dream I ever, like, had in my life! I was, like, about to marry Edward but you, like, ruined it!"

Klaus stared at her with a bored expression. "Are you finished?"

"Like, absolutely not!" Violet proceeded to finish her complaints. "Okay, now I am!"

"I found out what Olaf was trying to do at that play this Friday!" Klaus explained. "It turns out that since Justice Strauss will be playing the judge, an actual judge will be present during the wedding vows in this play!"

"So?"

"That means that the marriage isn't just valid for the play," Klaus paused dramatically, "It means…that it is also…valid for…REAL LIFE!"

**DUN DUN DUN**

Violet was utterly disgusted. "Like, eww, gross, I am, like, so not marrying Count Olaf!"

"You don't have to," Klaus said. "Let's just wake up Sunny and we can go tell Mr. Poe about this!"

"We can't, he's, like, at that stupid oil drilling, like, protest!" Violet pointed out.

"Shit on a shingle!" Klaus swore. "Oh well, we can at least call the police!"

Violet nodded, and the two opened up the bundle of sheets where Sunny was sleep.

The only problem was that Sunny wasn't there anymore.

"What, how can this, like, be?" Violet asked, clasping her hands to her face in a dramatic way.

"Huh?" Klaus said sheepishly. "I guess I know why Mr. Botox was in here last night."

"He was, like, in here last night!" Violet said, horrified.

"Yeah, he was really making a ruckus, too!" Klaus growled. "I could barely concentrate on reading!"

"Surprise!" Olaf shouted, coming into the room. "Oh, it looks like Sunny is not here! Where could she be?"

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**Hahahahahahahaha! Cliffhanger ending! Well, not really, since you've read the actual book and know how it goes.**

**Anyway, read and review!**


	9. Chapter Nine: Tower of Terror Part One

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: See the beginning of the previous eight chapters and you will know that I don't own any of the characters. **

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

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Chapter Nine: The Tower of Terror

"Yes," Olaf continued. "This is a surprise—"

"You took Sunny, you villainous cur!" Klaus said dramatically, trying to sound heroic…and failing.

"Actually, Mr. Botox did," Olaf explained. "He came in during the night and snatched her from this room. He made quite a racket, too. Didn't you hear the noises?"

"I saw him, but I ignored him," Klaus admitted. "I needed to concentrate on finding out how to beat you."

Count Olaf smirked. "That's what I was counting on, Binky Boy!"

"Again with the lame insul—" Klaus began, but Olaf raised his hand in a threatening way, so Klaus decided not to continue.

"Do you want to know where Sunny is?" Olaf asked.

"Yes," Klaus answered.

"Are you _sure _you want to know where Sunny is?" Olaf asked, grinning maliciously.

"Like, yes!" Violet answered impatiently.

"Do you _really_ want to know where Sunny is?" Olaf's questions were becoming increasingly annoying.

"Yes!" Klaus was getting very irritated.

"Are you _absolutely _sure you really, truly, absolutely, and undeniably—"

"Like, oh my God!" Violet said exasperatedly. "Just, like, tell us where Sunny, like, is already!"

Count Olaf frowned. "Fine then," he growled. "But you'll regret being mean to me once I do show you where she is!"

Klaus was incredulous. "_We're _being mean to _you_!"

"That is exactly right, Binky Boy!"

Klaus cringed at being called such a lame name.

Olaf glared at me for insulting his lame insult.

"Stop calling it lame!" Olaf pouted. "Why does everybody think my insult is lame!"

Because it is.

"Oh, **[EFF!] **you!" Olaf shouted.

Hey, you better watch what you say to me, pal. I'm the author—I can decide who lives and who dies.

Count Olaf shuddered.

That's right. Cower before me, bitch.

All right, back to the story.

"Come with me," Olaf had regained his malicious glee. "I'll show you brats where your shaved monkey of a sister is!"

Klaus and Violet followed Olaf into the backyard of his ramshackle house. That's right; I said "ramshackle." It's an old term meaning "run down." Look it up.

Count Olaf pointed to the top of the tower where he had partied with his troupe and hookers all those nights before. "Your sister is up in the tower!"

"You fiend!" Klaus said in disgust. "You're going to force Sunny into being a stripper for your sick parties!"

"Yes, I—NO!" Olaf glared at Klaus. "I'm not going to do that! I'm just going to lock her up in a cage and dangle her outside of the window fifty feet above the ground and threaten to send her falling to her death if Violet doesn't marry me in the play! I don't want her to be a stripper! That's insane! What kind of **[EFF!]**ed up pervert do you think I am!"

"You really don't want me to answer that," Klaus said truthfully.

Olaf was not amused by Klaus's remark.

"I am not amused by your remark," he spat at Klaus. "Perhaps if you actually look up to see how frightened Sunny is, you'll stop insulting me!"

Olaf was right. Well, at least about how frightened Sunny was. He was wrong about the insult part.

Violet glared at Olaf. "You, like, wouldn't dare, like, kill our sister!"

Olaf smirked. "Would I?"

"No!" Violet shouted. "And for, like, the record, I will, like, never marry you!"

"Okay then," Olaf said, still smirking. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Hooky!"

"It's Fernald," the hook-handed man growled over the walkie-talkie.

"Shut up, Hooky!" Olaf growled back. "Violet won't agree to marry me, so let the cage drop and—"

"Like, oh my God!" Violet was horrified. "You are, like, such a mean creature! Just don't kill Sunny and I'll, like, marry you! Gosh!"

Olaf smirked yet again. "That's what I wanted to hear!"

"Can I still drop the cage?" Fernald asked pleadingly.

"Shut up, Hooky," Olaf said, switching off his walkie-talkie.

Up in the tower, Fernald muttered, "asshole," under his breath.

"Look's like I win!" Olaf cried, doing a victory dance. "I win! I win! I win, I win, I win!"

Klaus and Violet groaned. Modesty was not one of Olaf's strong suits.

"I am going to celebrate by getting drunk and partying!" Olaf skipped off into his house.

Yeah, temperance is not one of Olaf's strong suits either.

Klaus and Violet hoped Mr. Poe would be back from that oil-drilling protest by Friday.

"Wait a minute," Klaus said, looking at the calendar app on his watch, alarmed. "Today is Thursday! That means the play is tomorrow!"

"No! Way!" Violet's mind was utterly blown.

"We have to find a way to get Sunny down from that tower tonight," Klaus said.

"But, like, how!" Violet asked.

"If this were the _real_ book, you could invent something," Klaus said, glaring at me. "But _somebody _decided to make you a valley girl!"

Hey, remember in the last chapter when I smacked your face clean off your head, Klaus?

Klaus gulped.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Trying to ignore me, Klaus turned to Violet. "Well, since you won't invent anything—"

"Like, damn right I won't," Violet interrupted. "Inventing is for nerds, like you!"

"_Ignoring_ that!" Klaus said acidly. "Since you won't invent anything, perhaps you can think of some other way to save Sunny?"

"Like, why can't you do it?" Violet whined.

"Violet, I already did my part in helping us out by discovering Count Olaf's plan," Klaus explained, annoyed. "It's time for you to be helpful for once!"

"If you were so, like, helpful," Violet retorted, "then why didn't you, like, stop Mr. Botox from, like, kidnapping Sunny?"

"Because I didn't know he was trying to do that!" Klaus replied.

"How did you, like, not notice him, like, steal Sunny when she was, like, sleeping right next to you?" Violet asked persistently.

Klaus glared. "Because shut up!"

Violet very nearly threw a tantrum right then and there, but Olaf made a very flirtatious gesture at her from the window, and her skin went pale.

"Like, you're right," she admitted. "I'll, like, try to find a way to, like, rescue Sunny tonight. You, like, get some sleep."

"Excellent," Klaus said boastfully. "I'm going to go get some beauty rest right now!"

"You, like, can't," Violet pointed out in a bored tone of voice. "It's, like, still morning."

Klaus looked around. The sun was still to the east, meaning that it would be a long time—and many tedious chores—before he would get his beauty rest.

"Shit in a bucket…" he groaned.

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** After ten months of hiatus I finally update yesterday, and then I throw this in today. What can I say; I finally got rid of that [EFF!]ing writer's block. **

** Read and Review! **


	10. Chapter Ten: Tower of Terror Part Two

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: See the beginning of the previous nine chapters and you will know that I don't own any of the characters. **

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

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Chapter Ten: Violet Scales the Tower

Doesn't that title just give away the whole plot of this chapter? In fact I may just skip the whole thing!

Nah, I'll write it!

When night finally came, Klaus eagerly fell asleep while Violet thought of a way to get up to the tower to save Sunny. She remembered the plank and the bungee cord that Olaf had left at the top of the tower. What she had to do now was figure out how to use it to get to Sunny.

She waited until around midnight, when Count Olaf staggered drunkenly to bed. Then she attempted to sneak out the window. Unfortunately, she slipped and fell, landing rather loudly in several garbage cans.

"Oh my God, ew!" she shouted loudly. "This is, like, so disgusting!"

Miraculously, no one woke up.

She staggered to her feet, and spent an hour getting the garbage out of her clothes and hair.

She then went around to the backyard, where the tower was. She could see Sunny in the cage, suspended fifty feet above the ground. Sunny had been shouting "Lame!" all day long, but now she had been gagged so that she wouldn't alert the neighbors and risk police notification.

Not that that was a legitimate worry. Nobody in Luvrentown ever noticed shit.

Anyway, Violet started at the bottom end of the bungee cord. When nobody was weighing it down, it only dropped down about ten feet.

For all you math geniuses out there, that means the end of the bungee cord was forty feet above Violet's head.

She looked around for something lying on the ground, hoping she might find a hook of some sort. As is turned out, there was a hook lying right at the base of the tower, next to her feet.

"Like, this should work!" she declared loudly.

The hook, however, looked like one of those things a person might use if he lost a hand. Ordinarily this would arouse suspicion. But Violet is an Abercrombie & Fitch obsessed Valley Girl, remember? Her GPA is probably a 1.5, or D+.

"I, like, get a C-, thank you very much!" she shouted at me.

That's still less than a 2.0 GPA.

She stared at me blankly.

That means you're below average.

She glared at me, and shouted insults at me.

Hey, remember when I turned you into a baboon.

"Like, when did you turn me into, like, a baboon?" she demanded.

Right now.

I turned her into a baboon for five seconds. Most of those seconds she spent scratching her butt.

She was absolutely mortified when she turned back into a human.

Are you ready to behave?

She gulped.

Good.

Violet turned back to the task at hand. She looked around for something to tie the hook to, so that she could throw it up to the bungee cord.

"Wait a minute," she asked. "If you, like, are just going to, like, have me throw some sort of, like, grappling hook like in the real, like, story, then why did you, like, leave the bungee cord plot device in?"

Because shut up.

"Okay, like, geeze," Violet said, taken aback. "There's no need to, like, get all uber pooper about it!"

She returned to the task at hand. After searching for an hour, she began to wonder—rather loudly—where she could find a rope.

"I wonder where I can find a rope!" she yelled. "LOUDLY do I wonder!"

Amazingly, no one woke up.

One explanation for this phenomenon was that Olaf and his troupe were so smashed when they went to bed that not even a hurricane could have awoken them.

I decided to save Violet another hour of searching and screaming by using my author powers to make a rope magically appear on the ground next to Violet. Unfortunately for her, she was still walking around and her foot got caught it the rope. She tripped over it and fell flat on her face.

Ignoring my annoying laughter, she tied the rope to the hook, and threw it up towards the tower.

**CLANG!**

The hook didn't not catch on to anything and banged loudly against the tower. It then fell back to ground and made another loud noise.

Violet threw the hook back up. It crashed against the tower again, but this time it didn't fall back to the ground. It fell on top of Violet's head and knocked her out.

She woke up an hour later, muttering something about the author getting her all the latest Abercrombie and Fitch clothes to compensate for what she'd been put through.

Sorry, Violet, but that's not happening.

She swore at me in Danish, and then proceeded to throw the hook up at the tower again. This time the hook actually caught on to something.

"Like, finally!" Violet said exasperatedly.

She proceeded to climb up the rope. Halfway up, the hook suddenly slipped out of whatever it had grabbed onto, and Violet plummeted back down to the ground.

"!" she screamed in a very loud rage. "LIKE, WHAT THE **[EFF!]**, SERIOUSLY!"

After she recovered, she tossed the hook up the tower _once again_. It latched onto another hook. Specifically, it was Fernald's hook, but Violet didn't know this yet.

Hoping the hook wouldn't slip again, she climbed up the rope. After what seemed like forever, she reached the window at last.

"Violet!" Sunny shouted.

"I'm, like, finally here!" Violet declared proudly. "That was like, super hard! Even if I wasn't, like, a total valley girl that, like, still would have been totally hard!"

"Down!" Sunny shouted, pointing to the ground.

"Yeah, I, like, got it!" Violet agreed. "I'll, like, carry you down in the cage! That way, we can, like, destroy when we, like, get you out!"

"We?" Sunny asked, looking for Klaus.

"Don't, like, worry about uber-geek 9000!" Violet scrunched up her nose. "He, like, needed to get his _beauty sleep_!"

A loud snoring sound followed by a "what, where am I," came from the other side of the room. Violet turned towards the noise and realized in horror that her hook had landed on one of Fernald's hooks.

Fernald stared around the room bleary eyed before noticing the extra hook and rope attached to his own left hook. He turned to the window and saw Violet frantically attempting to unlock Sunny's cage.

"Speedy!" Sunny shrieked, which meant, "Hurry up, Violet!"

"I'm, like, trying!" Violet responded, picking at the lock fruitlessly.

Fernald flicked his hook, causing the roped hook to slide out of the window and crash to the ground below. Violet screamed and held on to the window sill, her legs dangling fifty feet above the ground.

No one, not even the next door neighbors, heard her screams. No one even woke up. This made Luvrentown one of the deafest cities in Europe...or America…or wherever the series takes place.

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**In the next chapter, Klaus gets woken from his beauty sleep and tossed in the tower with his sisters, and they all try to think of a way to get out of the play at the last minute. Or not.**

**Read and Review!**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Epic Lameness

The Batshit Beginning

**Disclaimer: See the beginning of the previous nine chapters and you will know that I don't own any of the characters. **

**Rating: PG-13 for language**

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Chapter Eleven: Count Olaf is a Very Creepy Man…

Fernald hoisted Violet off of the window ledge and into the tower room. This was a comically difficult feat due to the fact that Violet was screaming, kicking, and flailing. Having hooks for hands complicated things even more.

"Looks like Olaf was one step ahead of you," Fernald sneered. "He's not a '40s movie villain, you know? He isn't just going to leave the hostage unattended and then just assume that no one will come to the rescue. He had me stay in this tower just in case someone tried to rescue Sunny."

"That, like, totally sucks!" Violet complained in defeat.

Fernald sneered again. "Life sucks when you're not rich, little girl. Take me for example; I lost my hands when a car ran over them and didn't have enough money to buy prosthetics, so I had to make do with the old fashioned replacements: hooks."

"How did you, like, get your hands, like, run over?" Violet asked. "What were you, like, doing that made you, like, at risk of that, like, happening?"

Fernald glared. "Shut up, I'm talking!"

He paced around the room for a bit, as if he were trying to remember something. He soon did.

"Have a seat," he pointed to a chair.

"I don't want to!" Violet pouted.

Fernald growled and pushed her into a chair. "Thank you," he said sardonically. "Now, as I was saying, life sucks when you're not rich, because you can't just buy your way out of trouble. If I had the money, do you'd think I'd be working for Count Olaf?"

"What could you, like, do with hooks for hands anyway?" Violet asked.

"Shut up, I'm talking! Anyways, to answer my own question, no, I would not. I would not only have bought prosthetic hands, I would have opened a chain of factories that _make _prosthetic hands just for people who lose their real ones. But I don't have money, so I work for Count Olaf."

Fernald paused for a bit, before glaring at Violet and continuing. "And if _you _don't marry Count Olaf, you won't have any money either!"

"I, like, never thought I'd, like, say this, but money isn't, like, everything!" Violet said angrily. "I would, like, never marry someone like Count Olaf for, like, all the money in the world!"

"I guess that's what makes you different from all the other valley girls I've met," Fernald smirked. "I actually have a very small amount of respect for you, little girl!"

"I'm not little!"

"Shut up, I'm talking! Like I said, I have some respect for you. I hope Olaf shares you with me after his plan succeeds."

Violet shuddered. She wished her can of mace hadn't burned in the fire.

It just occurred to me that I have forgotten to describe the tower room to you. It wasn't very big, but it was bigger than the "bedroom" the Baudelaires slept in. There were paintings, pictures, and sculptures—yes, _sculptures_—of eyes all over the place. There were three metal poles connecting the floor with the ceiling, located on a small stage. This was probably where the strippers performed for the theatre troupe. Empty beer bottles were all over the place. There was also a skeleton laying on top of the rug.

"If you're wondering what the skeleton is," Fernald said to Violet, gesturing towards the said skeleton. "It is the remains of Olaf's dead grandmother. She died of an opium overdose in this very room about forty years ago, but Olaf's family had no place to bury her. So they just left her here."

"That is, like, so twisted!" Violet said in disgust.

"I know," Fernald seemed just as disgusted. "Actually, forget about you, I just hope he shares some of your fortune with me so I can leave this damn troupe!"

"Don't bet on it, Binky Boy!" a voice came from over a radio.

Fernald groaned and then pushed the button. "Yes boss?" he asked.

"What's your status report?" Olaf asked.

"Your pretty bride tried to rescue the shaved monkey," Fernald explained. "I caught her."

"No you didn't," Violet argued. "I, like, woke you up trying to, like, escape with Sunny!"

"Shut up, I'm talking!" Fernald growled at her before turning back to the radio. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, first of all, she's mine!" Olaf snarled. "_Mine _I tell you! I'm not sharing her fine ass with anybody!"

Violet vomited on the spot.

"Yeah, I know she's yours, boss," Fernald said, biting back the disappointment in his voice. "What about the boy?"

"You can have him, I'm not interested in young—"

"No, I meant what should we do with him now that we've caught his sisters?" Fernald said, annoyed.

"Oh…" Olaf sounded sheepish. "Well, I think I'll have Mr. Botox wake him up and send him up to the tower with you and his sisters. That should keep _him _from getting any rescue ideas!"

"Yes, boss," Fernald said in agreement.

The radio switched off.

Moments later, there were sounds of anguish coming from the "bedroom". Klaus was not happy about having his beauty sleep disturbed.

The door to the tower room burst open and a very frustrated Mr. Botox tossed a very angry Klaus inside.

"Will you _shut him up_!" Mr. Botox growled at Fernald. "He screamed right in my ear and I think my eardrum ruptured!"

Mr. Botox stormed out of the room clutching his ears.

"Shut up, orphan!" Fernald growled at Klaus.

Klaus still screamed bloody murder.

Fernald glared at me. "A little help?"

Fine.

I dropped a heavy book on Klaus's head and knocked him out.

"Thank you," said Fernald.

At least now he'll get his beauty sleep.

It wasn't long before morning came, and Fernald was called to help Olaf and the rest of the troupe set up for the play over at the Luvrentown theatre. However, he made sure to put bars on the window and dead-bolt locks on the doors before leaving.

When Klaus woke up, he was surprised to discover that he was in the tower. Violet told him what happened and he remembered.

"This sucks," Klaus groaned.

"Like, totally!" Violet agreed.

"Lame!" Sunny was also in agreement.

"You have any ideas to get us out of here?" Klaus asked.

"The hook-handed dude, like, totally threw my roped hook out the window, so it, like, won't help now!" Violet said sourly.

"Bite?" Sunny suggested.

"The bars are made of metal," Klaus pointed out.

"So?" Sunny asked.

"Besides, you're in, like, a cage," Violet said.

"Oh," Sunny looked down in defeat.

"If you somehow got married before the play," Klaus said, "then you couldn't legally marry Olaf because you'd already be married to somebody else."

"Well, there, like, isn't anyone else to marry around here, is there?" Violet said hopelessly.

They were silent for several hours.

"If we had, like, gasoline," Violet said, "then we could built, like, a bonfire and, like, signal for help."

"We don't have any gasoline," Klaus said hopelessly.

They were silent for several more hours.

"Bite?" Sunny suggested.

"You're in a cage," Klaus and Violet said monotonously.

"Right," Sunny said hopelessly.

They were silent for several _more _hours.

"We could break these bottles," Klaus said, pointing to the many beer bottles, "and stab Olaf to death with them."

"Then, we'd, like, be arrested for murder," Violet said hopelessly.

"Oh, right," Klaus said, just as hopelessly. "And being a twelve-year-old boy, I'd end up being somebody's bitch almost immediately."

"TMI!" Sunny shrieked.

"But it's true!" Klaus protested.

"I could, like, say 'I don't' instead of, like, 'I do'!" Violet suggested. "That should work!"

"Count Olaf would probably drop Sunny off the tower if you did," Klaus pointed out glumly.

"Right you are, Binky Boy!" Count Olaf said, barging into the room with Fernald behind him. The children shuddered as the two wicked men approached them.

"It's time to come down to the theatre now," Olaf said, grinning triumphantly. "Let's get you and Klaus dressed up. Hooky here will watch over Sunny for the rest of the afternoon and evening."

"Make one attempt to sabotage the play and I'll release the cage and send your naked ape baby plummeting to her death!" Fernald sneered.

"Hooky and I will keep in contact with our walkie-talkies," Olaf continued. "So don't assume that he won't know if something goes wrong. He's stupid, but he has my intelligence to guide him!"

Fernald growled at the mention of him being stupid.

Olaf took no notice and shooed Klaus and Violet out of the tower, out of the house, and out of the depressingly gloomy area that the aura of the house had cast upon the neighborhood. As he took them to the theatre, only one thought was going through either of the Baudelaires' minds.

'Come on, Violet, think of something,' Klaus thought.

'Like, come on, Klaus, think of, like, something,' Violet thought.

Yeah, they were pretty much royally **[EFF!]**ed.

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**I thank my readers for reviewing and remembering my story that had sat dormant for so long until just a few days ago. As always, continue to read and review!**

**Next up, the play begins, and Klaus and Violet must make last minute decisions if they want to get out of Olaf's evil plot. Unfortunately, they keep expecting each other to do something.**


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